Picking Up the Pieces
by amillionyears
Summary: Santana gets tired of Lima Heights and decides to take the only person she has eyes for on a trip to LA. Brittana/AU from Asian F onward. To Adriana, let's see how many reviews this gets!
1. Prologue

When a coach addresses you as sandbags, you don't quite know what to do.

The boob job was my idea, and I admit it was a mistake (even if it got me a hell of a lot of attention). Being on the bottom of a pyramid for a whole cheer season was punishment enough. I know I'm not the thinnest girl around, but those fatty Lime Heights Cheerios, all stacked on top of you, is just a little _too _much torture.

If it's anything I learned, though, from my heritage is that you take absolutely _no _shit from _anyone. _There were two people that rule, however, didn't apply to; Coach Sylvester, and Brittany Pearce.

Brittany is self explanatory. I've felt responsible for her since we met freshman year. I had sex with the girl, for goodness sakes, and even if I hated to admit it; she was the reason I was a lesbian. Her and her only. Though I know she's innocent, she's the only person I've bluntly allowed to make my life a living hell.

Sue, she's another story. I wouldn't take _any _crap from that woman if she weren't my ticket out of this place. If it meant taking all the comments about my sexuality and my boobs, I would allow it just to _get the hell out_ of Lima Heights, Ohio.

Recently, though, it's been a long week. After Schuester kicked me from Glee club, I got a little insecure. Most would think I have no reason to be self-conscious, seeing as my body is one of _the sexiest _in the school, but I am. I like to be a part of things, especially things concerning people I consider my high school family.

I'll admit, I've given them all a pretty rough time, what with my remarks about Sam's trouty mouth, Rachel's unnerving lack of altitude, and the whole thing with Mercedes (what can I say, I just can't stand the fatty!). But, even if it doesn't seem like it, I care.

And when you're separated from those people you care about, life gets hard. And yeah, I pledged my alliance with the club again, but it's hard to pick up the broken glass when sometimes you just can't see it.

That was when I decided I needed a break.

* * *

><p>"Brittany!"<p>

The blonde ponytail whipped around and I came face to face with Brittany for the first time today. I gave a smile as we both made our way toward the Glee club, "I've got to talk to you about something."

"What is it, Santana?" she asked with an airy smile.

"I want to take you somewhere," I answered, and gave a smirk.

"Well, if it's Glee club, we're already half way there. And I don't want to get caught in the janitor's closet again...You know, teachers don't react too well to things like that."

Shaking my head, I gently took hold of her arm and pulled her aside, "Not like _that. _ I want to take you _somewhere," _I looked around to make sure there weren't any curious ears eavesdropping (I couldn't miss a chance to beat up some nosy little prick, now could I?), "Let's go to Los Angeles."

* * *

><p>"Sorry, Santana," Brittany apologized as she exited her house. Lord Tubbington sat lazily in the windowsill, eying us both, and Brittany stopped to wave good by and recite the cat the emergency numbers, "I couldn't find Kurt!"<p>

"Kurt?" I questioned as the two of us climbed into my car. I adjusted the mirror, only to find all of our bags were blocking the back window. I wasn't about to fix it; if some loser can't see my car about to back over their sorry ass, too bad!

"My unicorn," she stated, as if that were all the logic her answer needed. I nodded and gave her a smile. She laughed.

At that moment in time, as I backed out of the drive way and began the long drive out of Lima, time seemed to disappear and I was only left to myself, Brittany, and of course Kurt (her stuffed unicorn), with the wind in our faces and our whole trip ahead of us.

"We're going to Los Angeles, baby!"

**A/N: Created for a friend (Santana98), please review. =D I don't know how often this will be updated, or if it's even any good, but I'd love some feedback, good or bad. It's a challenge to see how many reviews I can get, so help me out, please. :D**


	2. All's Fair in Love and Sex

My biggest regret of the trip was ever deciding to travel by car.

The roads were slick with rain, as the giant, gray, looming cloud seemed to hover over my mini red convertible like my constant need to release some sexual frustration. (Which, by the way, was shooting up like my grandfather's blood sugar.) Not to mention, with the early August heat, we were practically driving through a sauna.

It had been a long day and a half, which included a stop in a car lot in which I got a little nap and Brittany, well, did what she had done the entire time; sleep, and snore, when we reached the run down motel in the center of Los Angeles.

Needless to say, the trip on my behalf so far was not going too well.

I turned into the parking lot, nearly sure I'd hit a few pedestrians thus far and adding another to the list, with the faded motel sign blinking rapidly. Or maybe it was me, because I was seriously about to drop dead at the wheel and my eyes were nearly as heavy as my boobs.

"Come on, San," piped Brittany, suddenly awake and perky with her unicorn tucked gently under her arm, "Let's go get our room and hit the city!"

If it had been anyone else, I would have told them to drop damn dead and let me sleep, but considering who it was I lugged myself out of the car and into the closet of a lobby.

It took a little persuasion to get the prices down, maybe even a little boobage, but I finally snagged us a five-night deal for $20 a night. And so, after a short, rather seductive ten minutes, Britt and I entered our room. If I hadn't been so tired, I would have noticed the dead roach in the corner and gone all Lima Heights on the loser that calls himself a janitor.

"Santana, I'm going to change," Brittany said before closing the bathroom door. I was surprised I even heard it, because I was already laying down on the bed, or was it a rock? I wasn't too sure and practically high from exhaustion and caffeine overdose. But the last thing I heard before I passed out was the door opening and closing; the last thing I saw, a blonde ponytail bouncing before the motel room door shut it from view.

* * *

><p>"Brittany?"<p>

It was nine at night and there was no sign of the perky blonde darling. She was nowhere to be seen; I've checked to see if she got lost under the bed again, stuck in the closet, or was wandering around the motel premises aimlessly. I even checked to see if she took the car, which (to my relief) was there, and in one piece.

"Are you talking about the pretty blonde doll that entered the room with you?"

I turned to find the crusty old desk clerk leaned against the wall, his beard a mess of grease and his face something close to a grizzly bear's in attempt to look sexy. Surely this prick didn't think I actually wanted to have sex with him?

"Yeah, but the next time you call _my _Brittany _that_ you're going to get yourself a nice serving of Santana Satanism."

"She went that way, walking," he said, pointing a finger in the direction of a lighted avenue, music blaring so loud even Finn, with his uncanny height, would hear it, "Looked mighty fine."

"For that," I said, "I'll let you off with a warning." But instead of walking away, I gave his fat-ass cheek a hard slap before walking away, completely aware of the eyes following my swaying hips as I left in search of Brittany.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until I reached a musty area of town when I found Brittany. She was hanging outside a club named "Lady Luxury" trying to convince the guard at the front that her name was Brittany Spears.<p>

"Here we go again," I muttered before shoving my way through the crowd, careless of the physical well-being of those being mowed over (what's new?) and completely undeterred by the shouts of, "Bitch!" and, "Watch it, slut!"

"I can confirm that," I interrupt as Brittany repeats her 'name' for what must be the millionth time, "Now will you stop being such a goody-goody badass and let us in already? That's my jam pumping up the crowd and I swear if you make me miss it I'll have your _head."_

None too slowly, he unclipped the red velvet ribbon and allowed us in.

"Thanks, Santana," Brittany said and threw an arm around my shoulder.

I didn't bother to ask what the hell she was doing running off without me and just nodded. I should be the one thanking that beautiful goddess for showing me to such a place; this place was swarming with hot guys and girls alike, but not that I had eyes for anyone else but the innocence hanging onto my arm.

What I didn't fail to notice, though, was that there was not _one _girl and guy out on the floor that night.

"Brittany, what is this place?"

"Oh, it's a lesbian club."

And, as simply as she had stated that piece of information, she slipped from my arm and disappeared among the grinding mass of bodies.

* * *

><p>It was nearly two hours until I spotted her, nearly stripped of all clothing and at least half drunk already, a beer in one hand and one of her broken heels in the other.<p>

"Shit, Brittany," I muttered coldly as I made to grab her from the table. But another reaching hand intercepted mine, squeezing at my wrist.

Whoever it was let out a slurred, "Don't do that, honey, you'll ruin the whore's show."

My right hand was dead center as it slapped that asshole's cheek and hopefully whatever dirty, shitty thoughts this pervert was getting about Brittany. My triumph didn't last long, though, because the last face I _ever_ expected to see (albeit slapped as red as my smokin' hot lipstick) coming up from that assault was Jesse St. James'.

**A/N: I'll be honest; I'm not very sure about this chapter. I think it was a little more Santana insightful and not too much action/drama/whatever, but I think that's the viewpoint of the story anyways...Back to the point, though, I hope whoever read enjoyed it and, if you liked or didn't, have suggestions or just want to tell me what you think, review please. =D**


	3. Sweet, Sweet Lady

"Santana!"

The curly haired bastard in front of me put on a cocky grin and held out a hand, which I refused silently, absolutely furious with him. He looked at me with his drunken, bloodshot eyes and put on a completely insane grin, "Miss me?"

"Bullshit, you're just total bullshit, St. Douche," I retorted with my eyes locked on Brittany, who had at least somewhat managed to get herself from the table and down our way.

He took an offensive look, "If I do recall," I managed to hear between his wasted slurs, "It is Vocal Adrenaline that at least _placed _at nationals."

Brittany smiled at us both, "Oh, hey, Santana," she smiled.

Her innocence was the _only _thing that kept me from jumping Jesse's ass right then and there. Being the good, honest person I am I decided I would leave it alone (as long as, of course, he doesn't say anything like he just did).

"Come on, Brittany," I said, "Can't we just have a nice night tonight? Partying is for the middle, that way you don't have a hangover the rest of the time. Let's go out to eat, okay?"

"Sure, Santana," she smiled. I took the beer from her hand and shoved it in Jesse's direction.

"Here, take your bone, puppy, and get out of my way. Brittany and I gotta see if there's anything in LA that can even _compare _to BreadstiX."

But somehow, I got the feeling that that wasn't the last I was going to see if Jesse St. James.

* * *

><p>It was a long walk until the clubs would dim out and replace with nice, fancy restaurants, so I decided to take the time to talk with Britt.<p>

"Britt," I put my hand on her shoulder and looked over with her. This would be one of the only times anyone would ever catch me concerned with someone for such reasons; anyone else that ditched me? Hell to the no! They would be getting all _kinds _of Lima Heights.

"Yeah?"

"Why did you leave me?"

She shrugged, "Oh, Santana, I just wanted to party and you looked so peaceful sleeping. You kept whispering my name and wiggling around. I was going to wake you up, but–"

"It's alright," I assured, "It's just, you could have gotten hurt. I don't like the idea of you all alone without someone to help you, you know? There are bad people here."

"I'm okay, Santana," she said and stopped, gave me a smile, and pulled me into one of the sweetest hugs we had ever shared.

* * *

><p>It was well past ten when we finally got to an open restaurant. It was a red bricked building, with fancy letters reading <em>D<em>_ate de Dîner. _I wasn't curious enough to question the meaning as I invited myself to the front of the waiting line, Brittany on my arm.

"Names?"

"Brittany Spears," chirped Brittany and gave a smile. The man perked an eyebrow, looking at me. I gave an apologetic gaze that seemed to answer his silently asked question, before I explained.

"Names are only labels, but we're here as the live music. We volunteered only if we were subjected to a free dinner of our choice. The manager probably didn't tell anyone because it's a surprise for the employees and the guests."

My tone was persuasive, or I assumed, since Brittany leaned over and whispered excitedly_, _"We get to sing? Awesome!" Then again, the thing was as gullible as Alzheimer's patient and would believe me no matter what I said. But the man scribbled something on his list and pulled aside the velvet rope, allowing us in.

Once we were inside I gave a sly smirk. Music first, dinner later, and then a whole lot of alone time with Brittany once we were back at the motel. It was going to be a lovely night, and I knew just the song to sing.

* * *

><p>Though the song was a bit modern for the fancy rich socialites that sat down, sipping their herbal tea and munching on their fancy French biscuits, they seemed to be enjoying our performance.<p>

"I-I love you like a love song baby," I would sing, my eyes on no one but the blonde. And now that she was fixed up from her outing at the lesbian club, she was looking more beautiful than ever.

"I-I love you like a love song baby," Brittany would reply, using that sweet, wonderful, magical voice of hers that nearly got me lost in the lyrics, "I love you."

And like that, the song was over, as I half whispered the words, "Like a love song," into the microphone.

* * *

><p>There had been a loud applause before we were both sat down to our complimentary table. It only took a few minutes for me to know exactly what I wanted; the only Latino dish on that entire menu was right there on the front page. Brittany, as always, would just have what I wanted.<p>

But it wasn't our waiter that came to take our order.

"Excuse me, girls, _who _told you that you had permission to jump up on stage and sing that silly song?"

I looked up, my eyes narrowed, "The manager, you–" My eyes found their way to his name tag. Harold Finch; manager.

"Get out of my restaurant."

* * *

><p>It was just past midnight when the two of us returned to our motel room.<p>

"Thank god for McDonald's 24/7 service," I muttered as I shoved a good deal of fries in my mouth for the first time in a long time. I'd been practically starving myself since my freshmen year and it felt good to actually _eat _like a _real _person instead of listening to Sue's stupid as hell Cheerio 'nutrition' facts that, and I quote, "must be followed or else the minute you get bigger than the Nationals trophy you will hereby be dubbed fattest thing in all of China, therefore out fatting Buddha."

"Mhm," Brittany smiled through a mouthful of chicken nuggets smothered in honey sauce. She kicked her legs in the air as she fell back onto the bed, happy. It was amazing how, even though we had had a rough few hours walking and looking for a place to eat, she didn't seem to ever get sad, "Thanks for taking me, Santana. This trip is amazing," she said, "And look! I even got a few 'stop smoking' brochures for Lord Tubbington!"

"That's great."

"Yep, wanna see?"

"Sure thing, Brittany," I answered. Of course I wouldn't actually read them, but anything to keep that happy smile on her face. Absolutely anything.

And so I got up and scooted over to her, my eyes scanning over the front of a pamphlet, when I looked up. The thing waiting for me was the most adorable smile that could shove all of the sin of mankind into the back of a closet.

Then, like that, I pressed my lips to hers and thought; _Wow, how easy it is to sweep up the pieces of a broken glass when you've got someone willing to hold the dustpan. _

**A/N: Thanks everyone for adding me to your story favs, putting the story on alert, and for simply _reading_ it.  What I do need to ask of everyone, however, is that you please post a review. The only way I can improve is if you review, review, review and give me your feedback!**

**Also, I shall add, this story will (obviously) be in complete disregard to anything happening furthermore in the episodes. **

**Now, about the chapter, it was very sweet. I actually like it the way it is, however unexciting it may be. But, never fear, those of you who are most likely seeking a bit of drama, the next chapter should be a lot more eventful. :) -Olivia**

**P.S. Song choice inspired by a chapter from, "As Naya Rivera's Sister" by Adriana (who this story was dedicated to) aka Santana98. ;D**


	4. Here and Gone

It had been a long night filled with kissing. No, not the usual Brittany/Santana kisses where everyone knew we were both only relieving our tension. These were sweet, butterfly kisses around the face and jaw area with whispers of sweet nothings as we both kept from wearing ourselves out even further.

Once we were done, however, it took me a while to go to sleep. It had already been late once we were back from our late night rendezvous in town, and considering I stayed up hours after the hour we spent smooching, I needed sleep.

Problem was, I didn't get it.

I didn't know what time it was, but the sun was brightly shining through the cheap curtains of the motel room window when there were three loud, sharp, inconsiderate knocks at the door. At first I decided I'd let the ass that wanted to wake me up wait until I felt like getting myself out of bed, but then, only seconds later, did the prick have the _nerve_ to knock again. This time it was louder, faster, harder.

So, deliberately and with a groan, I grabbed my hair straightener from the bedside table and walked up to the door. Without even a look into the peephole, I unlocked the door and threw it aside.

But again, I was at a loss for words because there, standing, completely out of mind until now was, again, Jesse St. James.

And he looked terrible.

* * *

><p>"What do you want this time?" I snapped, tossing the flat iron aside and glaring at him with the best intensity I could manage from about two hours' worth of sleep.<p>

His equally, or perhaps even more, tired eyes remained unchanged, "I need to get back to Ohio."

I was completely silent, and completely _pissed _to the point where I gave him the look that says, 'Look, douche, you better be kidding me.' But I knew he wasn't and I could see the look of desperation in his eyes (which, may I add, didn't help convince me to consider his needs).

"Get the hell awa–"

"Santana? Where are you?"

I looked over my shoulder to see a sleepy Brittany shuffling around in the bed, missing my warmth. Her eyes were only half open, but they seemed to register me in the doorway after a moment's searching, "Oh, there you are," she said, "Who is that?"

My eyes went to Jesse, who was dull, lifeless, and shall I say, at a loss for what to do.

"Well, St. James, come in."

* * *

><p>It took about ten minutes to figure out how to use the dinky little coffee maker provided by the motel, but once I did I poured Brittany and I a cup and all three of us took a seat on the bed, "Well, explain yourself," I half-growled to the bedraggled boy.<p>

"What is there to explain? Our win at nationals provided everyone with an all expense paid vacation to LA. I got wasted most of the time and didn't even realize when the plane left. I've been here for weeks sexing my way into food and housing until finally I was just another man-whore on the street to be ignored. Thank God I found Brittany in that club..."

"Hey," I snapped, "Don't remind me what went down there or you'll be out of here in a New York minute."

"Right," he muttered, almost ruefully.

Brittany decided to chime in, "Well, of course you can stay with us because we're going back to Lima on Sunday."

"And what day is it?" he asked.

"It's Tuesday," I answered.

"And Santana, you wouldn't mind if I crashed here?" he asked.

This was where I was stuck. Of course I didn't want to let him in; he'd been nothing but a complete ass to me and the New Directions ever since we met, and by the small row we'd had last night I, quite frankly, hated his sorry behind from toe to the highest curl in his totally gay head of hair.

Then again, the look on Brittany's face she got when she felt happy with herself for being nice... I would give anything to see that. However uncharacteristic it was of me to go as soft as Charmin ultra strong, it was true.

Two expecting gazes seemed to speed up my answer and, to my dismay, I found myself saying, "Yes."

* * *

><p>It took a while to get past the empty thank-yous and the apologies, but finally I had the time to jump in the shower and clean myself. The water was warm and welcoming even though I had a lingering curiosity of what was going down in the bedroom without me, I didn't really want to leave the shower's embrace.<p>

I washed my hair and body as slowly as possible, but sure enough the water was soon becoming cold and practically begging me to get out, so I reluctantly turned off the water and wrapped myself in my bathrobe.

When I walked into the living room there was no sign of St. James while Brittany lounged at the edge of the bed, a proud look plastered on her face, "Britt, where's Jesse?"

"He said he was hungry so I gave him your purse to go buy some food. I hope you don't mind."

_Shit._

* * *

><p>I was so infuriated that I dressed myself a mess and left my hair soaking into my clothing before I jumped in the car. Thankfully I'd left the keys on the dresser the night we arrived and they weren't in my purse, otherwise we'd be totally screwed.<p>

"Get in the car, Brittany, and grab that LA street guide. I need to see what time the next bus heading toward Ohio leaves." It was one of the few times I'd ever snapped toward her but in order to save this vacation I needed to get her to do things, quick. And the only time she ever responded immediately was when I was angry with her.

She thrust the booklet in my direction and hopped into the car. I made sure to lock the motel room door before I joined her, shoving the key into the ignition and hauling ass out of the parking lot.

"Santana," Brittany began meekly, "What's wrong?"

My answer was quick, icy, and, though I hate to say it, mortified, "That _bastard _is making away with all of our money, that's what."

I needed this vacation to turn out to be amazing. I needed something that would pick up the pieces of me instead of crushing them even more.

**A/N: Talk about a quick update. :D I had my muse for this chapter and decided to write it early. It might have a few mistakes that I missed since my eyes are a little teary from watching myself type, so my apologies, readers.**

** So, what do you think?**

** Review, please, and thank you to those who do. They really do make me feel happy. :D**


	5. Reality Check

**A/N: Early update, again. You could say I'm trying to get a little more in before The First Time airs, because I'm pretty sure I'll loose anything left of my sane mind when I experience the magic that is Klaine...*whimsical sigh***

* * *

><p>It was almost as if I were hunting for a needle in a haystack. The search was taking longer than I thought and minute by minute I was slowly becoming more and more pissed at St. Douche. He took another perfectly good hour from my morning and dare he mess with anymore of my vacation time...He was in for it once I found him.<p>

Brittany was like a misbehaved puppy in the passenger's seat. She sat, tight-lipped and almost looked fearful of me after my snappy orders from earlier. And yes, I felt like a complete bitch for doing that to her, but right now my mission was to find Jesse's sorry ass and get my damn money back. Hell, I'd be surprised if I didn't even bother to fight him; I was ready to actually relax for once since arriving.

It had been another ten minutes passed in silence when a meek voice piped up from my right, "Santana?"

"What is it?" I questioned, my eyes darting to her momentarily before they resumed scanning the Los Angeles sidewalks that currently swarmed with people. I had almost stopped a few times before after catching nearly the same, almost offensive hairstyle from the corner of my eye; however, each time it wasn't the rat I was searching for.

"Uh, I see Jesse."

I slammed my foot onto the break and looked around frantically, "Where is he?" I asked, knuckles white I as craned my neck and stretched to find a sign of St. James anywhere in the crowd.

She pointed a finger to the brick wall of a building. I looked over, squinting to see what the piece of poster board read. And there, under the big WANTED letters, was Jesse's name, and beneath it were the words; raping and assault of Alice Berlitz.

* * *

><p>I looked toward Brittany with a stunned look, "He <em>raped <em>someone?" I whispered in astonishment. Sure, I'd cracked a few snarky jokes on the topic a fews times, but the thought of forced (no, forcing and persuasion are _not _the same thing, so don't even begin to go there with me) sex was rather repulsive and, I'll admit, scary.

"That's it, I've got to find this ass and show him what he should be sorry for. That _bastard." _

And again, I started to prowl the streets, but this time I was a bit frightened of my prey.

* * *

><p>Another hour had been wasted on the search, though somehow I knew he wasn't gone yet. It was as if I could sense him, though the possibility of hiring a cab was highly likely, somewhere in the streets.<p>

But the last place I expected to find him was where he told Brittany he was going to be. Getting food, at a Wendy's, sitting hunched over in a booth and sticking fries into his mouth as he stared into space.

I parked in the lot and asked Brittany to wait in the car before I walked, stiffly, into the fast food joint. I stopped as I reached Jesse's table, my purse sitting right there in the seat next to him. He looked up at me and gave me a dull smile, "Hello, Santana."

It was the last thing I wanted to admit, but I was afraid of him now. However hollow he was and however pitiful he looked, he had raped someone and it was a new realization of mine that it was something I was afraid of. That, loosing Brittany, and being stuck in Lima, Ohio, for the rest of my life.

"Give me my purse," I managed to say, "And don't come back to our hotel again. I know what you did here and I don't hang out with people like that."

"Really, Santana?" he questioned, "You nearly sucker Brittany into it every time the both of you have sex. It's almost as if you rape her, too. Just like I got her to give me your purse you persuade her into having sex with you. You take advantage of her, just like I did that poor, Alice Berlitz."

* * *

><p>I had driven Brittany back to the motel in complete silence, having gotten my purse and money back, the assurance that Jesse wasn't to return, but in exchange I'd gotten a shattered heart. A regretful heart. A broken heart.<p>

Another day had passed. It was 12:01, Wednesday morning. I was standing outside of the motel room, leaned against the wall, wearing dried tears and a frown. It was as if I was sleeping with my eyes open, oblivious to anything happening, my eyes on the city streets I hadn't yet to explore like the tourist I'd came as.

But my stupor was interrupted by a soft hand. It was Brittany's, "Santana? Have you been crying?" she whispered quietly. It wasn't hard for anyone, even little naive Brittany, to realize I wasn't myself and my thoughts were elsewhere.

I didn't answer.

"Please come inside? You told me it was dangerous out here, all alone," she begged.

The negative thoughts wouldn't stop pouring into my head. Was I just going to end up sleeping with her, not really loving her like I wanted to? It wasn't like I wanted it to be, I knew that now. I didn't want this steamy, second base relationship with her. I wanted to kiss her in the moonlight, take long, midnight walks, have candlelit dinners, talk about our wedding...be in _love._

But how would she react if I told her? I've told her how I wanted it already in the past. She rejected me for Artie. I'd tried so hard to tell her, tell her how much she meant to me, tell her she was the anchor to my hold on the world, but she still seemed not to notice, or not to understand.

And I wanted so badly to explain it to her. So I decided that, I would. I turned to her and grabbed her hand that was rested on my shoulder, looked her in the eyes, locking my tears away for now, "We need to talk."

**A/N: Well, I don't think this will get any better than it already is, so here you go. I, personally, don't like this chapter but it was necessary to have it this way in order to lead up to future events. Try to assure me it isn't complete rubbish, please? Or even tell me if it is. I'm really kind of disappointed that I don't have anyone regularly reviewing, because I really want to know if there's anything I need to fix.**

**Pretty please? With a slushie on top?**


	6. Good Morning, Sunshine

Admittance was something I had always dreaded.

But I dealt with it. Sure, it was hard to accept myself after I spent the majority of my life looking down upon gays. Growing up in a Christian-Latino family who believed anything in the Bible was true, and the abuela who chewed my ass out after I explained to her I'd already had sex and no, I _wasn't _secretly married, didn't make it easy. None of my family knew. Only I knew, only Brittany knew.

And I didn't plan on telling anyone else. This was me and her business. Sure, I wanted the world to know. As long as the world was all outside of Lima, Ohio.

So telling her, assuring myself, and admitting I was a terrible person was not easy. Especially to a girl, nevertheless wonderful and magical and the best of me, but a girl who asks me to repeat myself because it takes her time to comprehend.

"Yes, Brittany, I love you."

"I love you, Brittany. Don't you understand?"

"This isn't a game to me anymore. I know I've screwed with you in the past, but I love you. This is real."

"God damn it, Brittany, I _love _you!"

All of it came with a river of tears. Pouring myself out to someone I'd kept so much from (out of good intentions, for the sake of her innocence) was difficult.

Explaining to her that ever since that first time we'd had sex with each other, though it was only out of boredom, I had felt something. And telling her that after all this time that bitter seed that hated myself grew inside didn't grow because of who I was; grew because I hated myself for thinking, even for a second, it was wrong. I had grown up knowing homosexuality was wrong.

But I knew it wasn't.

So I continued, telling her of my troubles and most of all, apologizing for something as bad as sin itself, in my eyes. Apologizing for confusing her, for making it hard to see what we were. I was sorry and my head was hung in shame at the hell I've put Brittany through. I was afraid she'd leave me. The anchor to my ship, the ground I stand on. Without her I would be nothing more than a lost puppy.

Continuously I repeated myself to her each time she asked, displaying the most patience I'd ever had before. Answering her questions and stubbornly swatting at my nearly spent tears.

But finally, what I expected to never come, came. It surprised me, confused me. But it made me so happy.

"I understand Santana. I love you too. Don't worry, I'll never leave you."

* * *

><p>"Santana..."<p>

"Santana..."

The sing-songy voice was musical and happy, if slightly drowsy. I slowly opened my eyes, staring at the bright red letters on the bedside alarm. 6:30.

I began to register the things around me. In a pile were my clothes, sitting there next to the bedside. The blankets hugged my bare legs and a light cotton fabric was thrown over my torso. A warm heat was emitting from my left. Brittany.

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

The tears from last night were dried. My body felt spent.

"Come on, Santana, get up."

I lazily rolled over and stared into the bright face of Brittany Pearce. The sunlight poured in from the motel window behind me, shining on the outdated carpet and casting the blonde's face in a golden morning light.

"Morning," I croaked out with a smile.

She smiled, "Let's do something fun today. To celebrate who we are."

The suggestion made my smile widen. It was proof that she really understood everything that we went through last night. So I said, "Gladly."

* * *

><p>"Stop it, Santana!"<p>

The voice was full of giggling and laughter. I continued to splash the warm, August water and she waded around, trying to get out of the splash zone, without success. It was mid-noon and our rendezvous at the beach was coming to an end.

Finally, I quit splashing and walked up to shore where Brittany had take refuge. I grabbed her cover-up dress and slipped it over her head, hiding her no where near modest swim suit before doing the same to mine as she gathered our things.

"What do you say we grab some lunch together?" 

"Okay, San," she replied with a grin. I, shamelessly, took her hand and gave it a squeeze. And it filled my heart to know that she squeezed back.

* * *

><p>"Don't forget the picnic basket, Britt," I called after her as I walked the blanket out into the middle of a small park. The sanctuary was completely out of place, being between two gas stations and in the center of the casino chain, but it was nice and well-kept.<p>

"Got it!"

She bounded over happily and took her place on the extremely clichéd red and white checkered blanket. I found the extremely convenient thing in the trunk of my car and had no clue where it came from, but it worked.

Together we nibbled on the store-bought sandwiches and family-sized bag of Doritos, talking about nothing of importance and remaining entirely lighthearted. She would smile and laugh at the jokes I made about the stupid ass skateboarders attempting to show off unknowingly to a lesbian, sending flirtatious winks in my direction every two seconds. She would comment on something happy, like a butterfly fluttering across the sky, and I would reply with a smile and an agreement, knowing everything was okay.

**A/N: There. An almost shamelessly fluffy and much needed update that I feel does not live up to the standards any of you dearest readers were hoping for. It would have been much better hadn't my computer crashed and my muse (which I remember being a very good idea) forgotten. So, my apologies, & feel free to tell me in reviews what you think. And pitch ideas you'd like to see happening in the next few chapters if you have any. :) **

** But, if you do like it, thank you. I'd love to hear from any readers in a review and anyone who is following this story should know I'm open to fanfiction requests, preferably for Glee or Pokemon.**

** Much thanks to anyone who read and, as always, reviews are wonderful.**

** P.S.: Forgot to say this for any of the other chapters, but I do not own Glee, Brittany, or Santana. **


	7. Where It's Sore

I watched Brittany as we sat together in the motel room. It was the next morning and I was feeling too good for words. Clean, I felt clean, like I wasn't keeping anything from anyone or doing things to hurt them. It was the best I felt in a long time.

Slowly, I crawled over to her and rested my head on her shoulder. I smiled at the thought of how it fit there perfectly, like a puzzle piece, "What you doing?" I questioned.

She turned, "Oh, nothing. I was just texting Kurt, that's all."

"What about?"

"Don't worry about it San," she said with a smile, "I'm going to take a shower. Want to come with?"

I'll admit, the suggestion was tempting. From any of our previous shower sex, I could vouch that it was explosive and amazing. But I just shook my head, "No, I took one before you woke up. But thanks for offering."

Giving me a grin, Britt just nodded and headed into the bathroom.

I looked at the place her phone lay on the bed. It wasn't that I thought something was up. I knew Brittany didn't know a lot of things, but she knew what cheating was and I would never accuse her of anything so distasteful. That didn't mean, however, that my curiosity was at bay, so I grabbed the phone and read a few of the texts:

**R u sure?**

_Absolutely. It's perfect, Britt. Even Blaine agrees._

**Dos it mean wat itz supose 2?**

_Something like it. But things aren't really supposed to be literal like that. Just go for it._

**kk.**

_Gotta run, I need to pick out what I'm going to wear. Good luck!_

The conversation ended there. I was about to scroll up when the bathroom door burst open, thankfully causing me to drop the phone. "Oops! Forgot my towel!" she said, emerging from the bathroom, topless. Her eyes wandered to her phone, "Oh! I should put that in my bag."

I watched her as the walked around the hotel room, my curiosity only growing.

* * *

><p>My thoughts still hadn't left the text messages. They weren't suspicious of anything more than a surprise, but I still couldn't help but wonder. And, of course, dread it. Surprises were <em>not <em>something I usually looked forward to. Being almighty and knowing most everything usually gave me the upper hand, which, being the bitch I am, I wanted.

"Hey, Santana," Brittany spoke. I glanced over at her. She had been preoccupied by the television, commenting on some show periodically before now.

"Yeah?"

"Can we go out to eat? I saw this one place in that book thing over there. It looked nice and it has karaoke tonight." She looked genuinely excited and hopeful for my answer.

Had it not been for that look, I would have denied. Or at least, I told myself that, since some nagging voice was telling me it could have something to do with those messages I read, "Yeah, I guess. I need to stop by the bank first."

She flashed a happy smile, "Perfect!"

* * *

><p>It was around 7 at night when we headed out for the restaurant. It wasn't a long drive, only about ten minutes from the motel. When Brittany saw it she began pointing excitedly, "There! There it is."<p>

"Mhm," I said as I turned the car into the lot. It looked a little vintage, a little authentic, even. Of course those were my words I used when things _weren't _totally badass and awesome. But it was a night meant for Brittany to choose what we did, so I kept my mouth shut.

She led the way into the building enthusiastically. It was obvious she was itching to get something done, and I hoped my hopes of finding out what she was planning would be confirmed here.

"A table for two," I told the fat little man at the front desk. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, we're booked, unless you've got a reservation."

"A reservation for this stupid a–"

"Brittany Spears," Brittany piped in, smiling. Surprisingly, the man nodded, gave me a skeptical eye, and allowed us in. As we walked I looked to Brittany in surprise.

"You reserved us a place here?"

"Yep," she smiled proudly, "I've got a surprise for you."

"Wow," I said, feigning my shock though my wonder was genuine, "I wonder what it is?"

She just smiled and led the way to our table.

* * *

><p>"Alright," the MC laughed and nodded. Brittany stepped up onto the stage where the karaoke was set up, with a piano and an assortment of instruments. Though the rest of the play was as old as hell, the stage full of instruments was up to date, "Let's welcome to the stage Miss Brittany Spears."<p>

Brittany grinned and climbed up onto the stage, whispering to the sound man before she took a seat at the piano, "This song goes out to my wonderful girlfriend, Santana," I almost cringed, but stopped myself. This was LA. No one knew us. It was okay for them to know. "I know you've been through a lot, but I just have one question for you,"

The song began and she lightly pressed the keys of the piano. She would send me sweet looks, occasionally missing a note, but I didn't mind.

She turned to the microphone and began.

_"If I kiss you where it's sore,_

_ If I kiss you where it's sore,_

_ will you feel better, better, better,_

_ will you feel better?"_

I couldn't help but smile as she continued, her voice ringing out in a tone I never heard it before. I was so used to hearing it either in the background, or used to sing a whoreish Britteny Spears or Ke$ha song. But this was nice, refreshing, and most of all...sweet.

_"Born like sisters to this world, _

_ In a town where blood ties are only blood._

_ If you never say your name out loud to anyone,_

_ they can never call you by it._

_ If I kiss you where it's sore,_

_ If I kiss you where it's sore,_

_ Will you feel better, better, better,_

_ will you feel better?"_

She looked in my direction during the musical break and gave me a smile as she drew out the last note, her fingers dancing over the keys. Almost everyone was in silence, surprised to see someone on stage that could actually sing. I was thankful they all had their eyes on her, though...my eyes were watering and I wanted to spare my pride.

_"You're getting sadder, _

_ getting sadder,_

_ getting sadder, _

_ getting sadder,_

_ And I don't understand,_

_ I don't understand..."_

She trailed off in the song for a minute, again drawing out the words, but this time she picked up quickly.

_"But if I kiss you where it's sore,_

_ If I kiss you where it's sore,_

_ will you feel better, better, better_

_ will you feel better?_

_ Will you feel better, better, better,_

_ will you feel better?_

_ Will you feel better?_

_ Will you feel better?_

_ Will you feel...better?"_

The song ended with one last question and a few more keys. The entire place erupted in applause and I couldn't stop myself; I cried.

But this time it was happy tears. I felt amazing, and as I stood to pull Brittany, who was just coming down from the stage, into a hug I whispered, "Of course."

**A/N: Yet another, this time more shamelessly, fluffy chapter. Excuse all the fluff, but you know, I like this chapter. It's there to show that Brittany conveys the same feelings for Santana, not used in words how they usually do it in the show. I feel like she needs a song she's not asked to sing for once, one that means something to her.**

** Anywho~ If you're ready for some action, next chapter is going to be 1000+ words longer and way less fluff & way more suspense. And I'm afraid from there, dearest readers, only two chapters are left to the now decided ten chapter story. I'm so excited to get to writing the rest; it's been awesome.**

** Reviews are much appreciated!  
>Song: Better by Regina Spektor, with some words changed to make it more appropriate for the situation. <strong>

** R&R. ;)**


	8. Check Mate

"Are you sure about this, San?" Brittany questioned me curiously. She held tightly onto my arm as we crossed the street. The roads were packed with cars up and down the boulevard as it was a popular weekend for gambling.

"Of course! What makes you so doubtful?" I asked with a smirk. We had finally reached the tall building, shining with a million neon lights and roaring with the sound of slot machines, talking, and music.

"I don't know," she replied meekly. It seemed her attention had been drawn by the sight of the place; it was enough to amaze anyone from such a small town as Lima.

I swept a strand of hair from her face carefully, "Don't worry about it," I said before taking her hand and leading her inside.

The place was huge. Columns lined the walls and signs flashed, directing the traffic of the people inside. People of all sorts chatted and the place reeked of second-hand smoke and cigars. "This way," I said, rather in awe, as I led Brittany to an escalator after my eye caught the attention of a sign pointing in the direction of the casino's nightclub.

It was our last night in Los Angeles together. We left the next day, and though my initial purpose was to take a break from the incredibly small, awful town of Lima, I was beginning to miss BreadstiX and, admittedly, the pack of losers from the Glee club. But mostly BreadstiX.

I was snapped from my stupor by a man's voice, "I.D?" he questioned.

"Mhm, right," I said to the man as he held the red velvet rope expectantly. I rummaged around in my Coach bag and fished out my fake card. These days no one really checked for truth, and hell, if I didn't have a fake one we all know of my methods to getting what I want. I'm not called a bitch for nothing, that's certain. As I finally found it, I looked up and winked, handing it over, "There you go, babe."

He scanned it over, looked at me, and nodded. "And you, miss?"

Brittany looked at me hopefully. The last time I tried to make an I.D. for her, she questioned it to the point where I lost all patience, "She's with me," I explained. He had opened his mouth to protest, probably spout off a few dumb ass rules, but I put my hand on his and licked my lower lip suggestively, "Let her in for me?"

"O-okay.."

And like that, we were in.

"Santana," Brittany whispered, leaning over my shoulder, "I thought you were gay." She didn't seem offended in any way, and, as always, was innocently confused.

"I am, Britt. It's a little thing called _persuasion. _It just helps me get what I want," I answered distractedly. My thoughts were anywhere but the conversation as I took in the music, the dancing, the bar...it seemed like one giant frat party, minus the exceeding amount of pudgy, gay men.

"But never mind that," I say, rather excitedly, "Let's go dance. We've got to make the best of our last night here, right?" I'm already drunk with the adrenaline coursing through my body. "But first, I need a beer," I say, my mind switching gears. It's obvious I'm eager to loose control tonight.

I don't even notice the amount of force I'm putting on Brittany. I'm usually something of a motherly figure to her, leading her around with care, but this time I'm just dragging her around like a puppet. And I couldn't see that, at the time, she was unhappy with me. Like the first club we tried that first night, she was lost in something unfamiliar to her, entirely different from any form of fun you can find in Lima. If I could have sensed her fright, I would have stopped; however, I didn't, so I continued.

* * *

><p>It was many hours later and I was drunk. The place seemed a blur to me, roaring with laughter and conversation and loud, techno music. There was no sign of my blonde friend...oh, what was her name? Breanna?<p>

"Hey, babe," one of the more distinct voices found its way to my ear, "come on, let's go to my room. I'm sure you're as wicked in bed as you are on the dance floor."

_No, no, Santana. What are you doing? Getting laid by some douche as a lesbian, _my thoughts screamed and scolded. But I wasn't functioning and I was just about to give him my hand when another voice cut in.

"Stop it. Leave her alone. She's my unicorn and that's totally uncool."

"Mhm, Breanna?" I whispered as I felt a woman's arm curl protectively around my waist. She pulled me back lightly.

"Your _unicorn? _Look, doll-face, this isn't a kindergarten class. Get your bitchiness out of here. I'm sure this _smoking _hot lady isn't a lesbian. Aren't they all supposed to be shemales, anyways?"

"Hey," I mumbled in a slur, "Don't you call her a bitch, bastard. And watch the way you talk." My thoughts were slowly recurring, though some, like where I was, were left unanswered. One thing was clear and that was that this asshole was insulting me and my girl.

"No, you're my bitch, honey, you're coming with me," he growled. He forcefully grabbed my arm and gave it a tug, but Brittany just as equally jerked me back.

"Go away," she said. Her voice was in no way threatening. I knew I would have to help her out, or rather help myself out.

"Back off," I hissed, clawing my red painted nails into his flesh. He cursed loudly and drew back, calling for security and holding his bleeding arms. Brittany tugged me back toward the bar, my purse on her arm, "Come on, Santana."

* * *

><p>My watch told me it was around midnight. We had entered the casino around eight thirty and the first three hours were spent, wasted away in the nightclub. My head was clearer now, however, as Brittany and I sat in a private booth in the hotel's buffet. I was thankful we had come on ladies eat free night. Counting up all the money we'd spent the entire trip and the money we'd need for gas to get back to Ohio, I was broke and my credit card was maxed.<p>

Brittany ate silently at my side. I hadn't noticed her silence before, but now that a good deal of food had cleared my thoughts I was beginning to register her unease, "Hey, Britt," I commented, adding my hand to her arm, "Is something bothering you?"

"I'm mad at you."

The words stung me with surprise. Mad at me...for what? I knew I'd been drunk, but certainly I hadn't done anything too bad but get in a bitch-fight with that bastard earlier? Everything from my first beer to now was all something of a blur, a mix of memories meshed together.

"...Brittany," I muttered. My eyebrows furrowed together, "I'm sorry, what did I do?"

"Nothing. That's what you did; you didn't even dance with me. I thought we were together now. You know, dating."

I rubbed my hands over my face, sighing. My elbows rested on the table and I shook my head. How did I manage to mess things up after feeling so great just hours earlier, like I was on top of the world?

"Oh, God, I'm sorry..." I paused for a moment, considering my options. Say sorry and have a great night, or be stubborn and return to Lima unhappy? My choice was obvious, "I wasn't thinking, Brittany."

She cracked a smile and took my hand, "It's okay. You just weren't using your noggin," she said, tapping my nose playfully. She gave me a smile. It was the simplest things that brought that piece of heaven out from the cave and I envied her quick turn to happiness.

"Hm, I guess not," I whispered, drawing closer. I could smell a tint of alcohol in her breath, but I was sure it was nothing like the smell of mine. I planted a kiss on her lips, which looked so inviting at that moment, and cupped her cheek in my hand.

She returned the kiss and I, hastily, drew the curtain. I was pushing against her, again, unaware of the way I was so controlling, letting my body think for me when my thoughts should have been on her feelings. But she seemed to be enjoying this, kissing back, all of our sexual tensions built up and ready to be released.

"No," I said suddenly, pulling away.

"What is it, Sannie?" she asked, sitting up as I pulled back. I shook my head.

"Tonight is just supposed to be a fun night. I don't want to be like this...I want to save the sex for later, alright?" _Congratulations, _I awarded myself, _way to use self control!_

Contemplating this for a moment, she nodded, "Okay. Well, are you done eating?"

Relieved with her acceptance, I nodded, "Yep. Let's explore the place, then. You get to pick where we go this time, my way of saying sorry for being a shitty girlfriend. 'Kay?"

"Alright," she said, thought in her voice. Then her face lit up and she took on that look of excitement, "Oh! I want to go play those games! They look fun."

I laughed lightly at her term used for the slots and nodded, "Sure. Lead the way."

* * *

><p>Though it had taken a little time explaining the concept of the slots, we had a good deal of fun playing We would win a few dollars here and there, making up for our lost money, but all in all we were just paying to entertain ourselves.<p>

Shortly after we had gone to play a few craps, then had given up on poker entirely after endless questioning from Brittany, who was, at this point, leaning on my shoulder from exhaustion.

It was rather upsetting to think that this would be our last night here together. Here we were without the pressures of Lima, high school, and after everything that I spent dealing with feelings and Jesse St. Douche, I still felt like I had actually lived a little. Sure, I was one hell of a badass gal compared to the average Lima loser, but those people didn't know living yet.

"Alright, Britt, we'll head home after I cash in these chips," I told her, glancing down at my find. Even though we didn't play poker, I still managed to find a few of the rounded monies behind the slots.

She gave a bleak nod and leaned on me as we waited in the small line. The building was separate from the rest of the casino, I noticed, and the lack of security was at a low. Most people inside the room were waiting to cash in their wins or waiting inside for their cabs as the rain fell down steadily outside.

"Ma'am," the desk clerk tore me from my thoughts, "Are you next?"

But the poor woman didn't have time to finish as a loud shot echoed through the lobby and the body of the security guard hit the floor. The next thing I knew everyone was in a panic and Brittany was lost in the crowd.

* * *

><p>I sat in a chair, eyes on my lap. It was something when I, Santana QBIC Lopez, was afraid. They had my phone, they had my money, and they had a gun pointed at me along with a few others unfortunate enough to be caught inside the lobby. The phone lines were cut and money was being issued from the vaults in the back room and from the purses and bags of everyone stuck inside.<p>

"Listen here," the voice was rough, deep, slightly familiar, and painfully country. He waved his pistol around at us and flashed any women, including me, a devilish grin, "None of you are making it out without a little pay. Your family pays a ransom, or you die."

I knew I was cruel. Hell, I was a self-proclaimed bitch and I knew I ruined many people's lives before, but I would never consider taking away a person's life. For money, no less, something that is more easily gained from the art of bribery and threats.

"Now, does anyone," his eyes were on me as he asked, "Have someone outside they're willing to call in who is willing to pay for your freedom?"

I looked down. There was no way I would lead Brittany into this, and even the thought of her afraid, waiting outside with no clue what was going on, sent chills down my spine and curled my face into a frown. A few men spoke up about their wives, inconsiderate of the danger they were leading their loved into.

"How about _you, _pretty thing?" My gaze shot up at the feel of a gun resting at my throat. I met the man's ghoulish grin and held my breath; this was the man from the nightclub, "I'd be willing to set you free...for a smaller price," he whispered.

I hissed as his lips met my neck, "No way in hell."

"Very well, then, should I get one of my men to retrieve that pretty young blonde from outside? Maybe she would be willing to pay _both _of your fees."

My legs thought before my mouth as my foot made contact with his groin, sending him doubled over with pain, "Don't you even _think _about it you sick _bastard," _I warned with a newly found defiance. My hands were tied but my stubborn attitude damn sure wasn't.

He sputtered a small, _"Get her," _to his right-hand man, _"Take her into the back."_

A small, sickly-looking man stumbled up to my side and untied my hands none too carefully. He replaced the rope with a pair of handcuffs and made to cover my mouth in duct tape, had I not bitten his finger with such force he had begun to bleed and curse.

At the same time I saw the blue and red lights become visible through the windows. The two men looked over their shoulders in unison, "Drop your gun," came the authoritative sound of a police officer with his pistol raised.

Another uniformed officer had joined the small group of innocents formed behind the criminals. I stood out from the group just slightly as my position had been moved, like a pawn on a chessboard. I only half-listened as the man explained that we would be escorted to the police station where we would be met by our company. Then, as I was removed of my handcuffs and led toward the main door of the lobby, I passed the scene of the man being stuffed into a police car. He looked at me and I returned his look with something more my style, "Check mate, bitch."

**A/N: I told you it wouldn't be too fluffy, eh? I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I hope the length was better than the previous, shorter chapters. Reviews are more than appreciated, and any FF author would know they mean the world. Thanks for reading. ;)**

** Also, I'm planning a few other Glee stories in my head and I'd love if any of you would check them out once they're posted. Again, thank you readers and please review. (Can you say repetitive? XD)**


	9. Hey, I Missed You

"Santana!"

I stepped out of the car and welcomed Brittany into a hug. I rested my chin on her shoulder and relished in her scent, her feel, her everything, all while she babbled on, "I was so scared! I almost called Lord Tubbington to come rescue you...but then the policemen showed up. It was funny, I thought that they usually had poles, like on those movies Puck watched with us that one time..."

I couldn't help but smile, "I'm fine, Britt," I said. I looked her over, "How are you?"

"Way better," she answered.

"Good."

An officer walked up to us, checking the time on his watch, "Do you girls need a ride to your place?" he offered while reaching up to smooth his gruff beard, "I'm assuming your car is at the casino. If we could get your license place number and the address of the place you're staying, we can have you home tonight and your vehicle there by tomorrow, or rather, today."

"Sure," I said. He pulled out a notepad and I recited the address and the plate number, all while we walked to the police car that would be used to escort us back to the motel.

* * *

><p>It was around 4:30 in the morning when we finally made it back. I ran my hand through my hair and stepped out of the car, Brittany in tow, about to open the door to my room when the manager showed up.<p>

"What's this?" he asked, eyes going to the police officer who stood outside his car, waiting politely for us to get safely inside, "Nothing, it's none of your business," I muttered.

"When an officer escorts two of my clients back to my property, it most certainly is my business," he righted me.

"Sir," the officer said, "There was just a crime business at a casino, nothing you should be concerned of. These ladies are in no trouble whatsoever."

"I'm sorry, officer, but correct me if I'm wrong; these girls aren't of a–"

"You heard the guy," I snapped, "Go the hell back to your office, fry your beard, put it on a stick and call it dinner. If you don't, I won't have to tell Mr. Police Guy here what you've been..."

"Okay, okay," the guy put up his hands, "Have a good night."

The officer just shrugged, got back in his car, and drove off. Brittany stood, slightly dumbfounded and mute, but still contented.

"C'mon, Britt. Let's get some sleep before we're gone tomorrow."

* * *

><p>When I woke up that morning, my car was there, parked and washed. I was dressed and ready, still unpacked, but Brittany was sleeping peacefully on the bed. I wasn't going to wake her up just yet; we still had about two hours before we had to check out head back to Lima.<p>

I shuffled into the bathroom and ran myself a bath. I undressed and settled down into the water, closing my eyes, thoughtful.

The whole experience had left me feeling a mix of emotions. The first half had been hectic, overwhelming, and stressfully hard for me. Confessing more than I had before had been difficult, but in the long run it all left me feeling great about myself. Who I was was now determined, for the most part.

I'm Santana Lopez, head bitch, lesbian, sexy Latina and one hell of a persuader. I love Brittany S. Pearce and she loves me back. I'm still afraid of myself, but at least I know who I am now, and when the time comes I can admit it. It's not now, but it's going to happen eventually. And when it's time to come out and the people can't except me, to hell with them. Because before I was broken, but after picking up the pieces, I'm one hell of a beautiful masterpiece.

* * *

><p>"Come on, Brittany," I whined. She was taking forever doing who knows what inside that motel room. I'd already packed up my things and hers, and both were already in the car, still blocking my view, but like I said before; if they can't see me, it sucks for their sorry ass.<p>

"One minute San," she delayed. I sighed. The stupid desk clerk had already threatened to call the cops if we weren't out of here in five minutes. Since then, it had been about twenty. Thank God I can be extremely intimidating...and hot, of course.

Finally, the blonde appeared in the doorway. She had her unicorn under her arm and a smile on her face, but the most important thing was the key chain on her outstretched hand. I took it from her palm and held it in front of my face.

On one side was picture of Venice beach, which we never stopped by, but I didn't care. On the other was a heart capturing the same image, and around the heart was the phrase: _'I fell in love in LA.'_

Grinning, I squeezed her into a hug before clipping the trinket onto my set of keys, "I'll remember it forever."

"Me too," she replied and we both climbed into the car, getting situated before I pulled out of the lot.

* * *

><p>Brittany was sleeping yet again in the passenger's seat. A salad sat on my lap and I forked green lettuce into my mouth on occasion, causing my hands to leave the wheel from time to time. A few people cursed loudly at me when my car swerved dangerously toward theirs, but I just returned it and went my way.<p>

I looked up to see the green interstate sign reading, _'Lima Ohio, Exit 4B, 1 mile.'_

The trip was done, and the conclusion finally hit me with it's full force. Surprisingly, though, it wasn't all too saddening. The glass was stepped on a few times, true, but in the end all of the shards were swept up and glued together again. Sure, a piece or two was missing, but perfection is only an illusion.

I was ready to get back to Sue, back on the bottom of the pyramid, and I was actually anticipating sitting down again with all those losers in New Directions and belting out a few notes. I still wasn't planning on being nice to them. I mean, I didn't change _that _much over the trip, but they understood me more than anyone (aside from Brittany), and they would see my special way of saying, "Hey, I missed you."

**A/N: Only one more chapter. Thanks for anyone who stuck through with me until the end. I'm so happy I'm finally going to finish a multi-chapter fanfiction. Again, if you really want to make my day, leave a review and stick around for my other upcoming Glee stories. Thanks for reading. :)**


	10. Getting Started

"Sandbags," I winced as I heard the all to familiar voice. She'd caught me in the hall. I diminished all my hopes of avoiding her punishments until that Monday's Cheerio practice as I stopped, putting on my best bitch-face before I turned.

"Yes, Coach Sue?" I asked, the bitterness leaking out of my voice and practically dripping on the floor. She scowled.

"You miss an entire _week _of Cheerio practice and take Brittany along on your little lesbian joy ride and you have the nerve to talk to me in that tone? Oh, it seems like you've gained a few pounds. Eating fast food, probably. You smell like a golf course, you know," her insults stung, but not as much as they usually would have. I stood my ground.

"You know what, Sue? I've learned something over my _vacation," _I bit back sharply, "And that's that the only people who insult others are hiding behind their own insecurities. You're jealous you aren't as thin, you're jealous you don't have a _person _to involve yourself romantically with, boy _or_ girl, and you're jealous that I've got a better chance of making myself someone that you do."

Her scowl deepened, "Count yourself out of this week's cheer Sectionals."

"Gladly."

* * *

><p>I went through the rest of the day with my usual snark, radiating a new sort of Santana confidence. Brittany glowed as usual and throughout the day we showed little forms of affection, though I wouldn't allow anyone to see it. Hey, I'm trying.<p>

But the best part of the day was when I walked into the choir room. They all _smiled _when I entered the room with Brittany. Minus Quinn, who wore a slightly softer scowl.

"Oh, Santana," came the delighted voice of Berry, "You and your raspy vocals are back and just in time! We're deciding on what we're going to perform for sectionals today."

"Is it just me, hobbit, or did you get shorter? Of course, it could be that your mustache is throwing your body's proportion out of your little, tiny Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole," I replied. A flicker of a frown showed, but she just sighed,

"Welcome back, Santana."

"Yeah, it's good to see you again," stated Finn.

"Right back at you," I replied, "I was hoping you missed me enough to cook me some of your delicious tasting muffins, Pillsbury Dough Boy."

It was amazing how much they were all used to my bitchy comments. Everyone just smiled, glad to have the atmosphere in the room back to normal with the love/hate relationship we shared.

"So, Santana, Brittany," I turned to look at Kurt, "Tell us all about your trip."

There was a murmur of agreement among New Directions. Brittany had just about opened her mouth to answer, but I put my hand on hers and she closed her mouth to let me speak. They leaned forward in anticipation, like children listening to a nursery rhyme. I really hated to disappoint, but none of these losers would be getting any taste of my vacation. Not one lick of it.

"What happens in LA, stays in LA."

Brittany smiled at me, and I smiled back, just as Mr. Schu entered the room.

"Oh, welcome back, Santana," he began before he turned to address the rest of the New Directions, "Let's get started, shall we?"

** A/N: Very short final chapter, I know. **

**Well, that's that, readers. Tons of thanks to anyone who read even one chapter, even more**

**thanks to anyone who read all of the chapters, and the biggest thanks to my reviewers. I couldn't have done it without any of you guys. Writing this has been great.**

** A special thanks to Adriana (Santana98), to whom this story was originally for. Hope you enjoyed.**

** Also, I'd like to add (again) that this story is in no regard to anything happening in the episodes after Asian F.**

** One last thanks to everyone. If you liked this, I'd appreciate if you looked out for my other Glee stories. :) If you didn't, constructive criticism is great.**

** -amillionyears**


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